Gone

Chapter 22 [Blaze] What Happened? *

Bzzzzzz. Bzzzzz. BZZZ.

My eyes slowly flutter open, after I hear a weird noise that confuses me. A few seconds later I realize it sounds kind of like something's vibrating. I turn off my side and lay on my back, rub my eyes with my hands and deeply exhale, feeling a sharp pain shoot into my head. I have the most painful migrane I have ever gotten before, and it hurts so bad I can barely even think.

God, what is wrong with me?

"Blaze," I hear a girl's voice, causing me to widen my eyes in suspence. I lift up my head and look around me, realizing I'm not home. I'm not even at Xavier's crib. Where am I? "I think your cell's buzzing. Does that mean someone's calling you?"

Then I look to the left of me and spot Mickey sitting on the floor by her opened window, with a lit cigarrette between her fingers. "Um--" I hesitate, confused as shit. "Yeah. Just leave it."

She nods, continuing to blankly stare into my eyes as I stare back at her. "How'd you sleep?" she asks.

I frown, and let out a long breath. "Fine," I question myself, my head starting to throb again. I rub my eyes and fall back onto my back, ready to pass out some more until more questions shoot into my mind. "Wait. What am I doing here?" I ask, still covering my eyes to keep the light from blinding me.

 "You crashed here last night," she softly tells me.

"I did?" I let out, the room going silent. "What the hell."

"Can you, um," she stops as I open my eyes and look over at her blowing out a cloud of smoke.

"Can I what?" I ask her, aggravated as shit.

"Remember anything?" she finishes, as I scowl at her in confusion. "I'm taking that as a no."

"You're right. All I remember is going into the nightclub and sitting at a stool up at the bar," I answer, widening my eyes after.

"What?" immediately rushes out of her mouth.

"I don't remember seeing you there."

She quietly exhales, and flicks an ash out the window.  "Well I was. I was going to dance but I just decided it would be a better idea to get as drunk as possible."

"So-- Then what happened?" I ask, her glancing outside, avoiding my question. "Mickey?"

"I saw you sitting at the bar drinking, so you bought me some vodka and we drank a little bit," she breifly tells me.

"Okay. And?" I ask, feeling a sharp pain shoot through my skull. "Shit."

"Hangover?" she quietly asks me.

"I guess that's what this killer headache's from--"

"You were pretty drunk.  Actually, I should probably use the word wasted. You started bugging out and you ended up, um, telling me about what happened between you and," she suddenly stops.

I close my eyes and rest my head on the pillow. "Julie," I breathe out.

"Yup. Julie," she whispers. "Anyways. You started getting loud and you were making a scene, swearing at the guy who was bar tending, so I had to basically help you get outside cause you could barely even walk on your own."

"Oh, damn. My bad," I say to her.

"It's fine. You walked me home, we came inside," Mickey hesitates, as I cautiously open my eyes and set my gaze on her. "And you had a glass of water, and then you passed out after I led you over to my bed. I slept on the couch in the living room."